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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30104106">Bow before your Ruler</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaPinecone/pseuds/SeaPinecone'>SeaPinecone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sleep Bois Inc - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Alternate Universe, Backstories pog, Found Family, Techno POV, The Art of War - Sun Tzu, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, more chaps already written ya know, pls leave kudos, sbi as a found family, sbi au, the piglins are a weirdly intelligent species</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:27:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30104106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaPinecone/pseuds/SeaPinecone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Blade."</p><p> </p><p>Phil had nodded.</p><p> </p><p>"Blade." He spoke with mock graveness.</p><p> </p><p>Flicking through The Art of War, the smaller had shown a page he had torn out of another book and placed inside. A page of illustrated weapons.</p><p> </p><p>A tiny finger had pointed to the knife drawing.</p><p> </p><p>"Blade."</p><p>OR</p><p>A world where people can be hybrids, and a hybrid boy is lost in the Nether.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There had been a life before this. But he had chosen to forget it back then, and couldn't remember it at all now.</p><p> </p><p>He had owned nothing but messy, unkempt hair that was short, indicating <em>someone</em> had cut it before he ended up here. That <em>someone</em> had cared about him before he arrived in this world of hellish smoke and scalding lava. And clothes, dirtied beyond recognition.</p><p> </p><p>His hair was pink, but it, over time, dirtied into an off-ginger hue.</p><p> </p><p>He was a Human-piglin hybrid, making him dominantly human and therefore, born in the overworld. How he reached the Nether, or, more accurately, who had left him in the Nether, was a mystery.</p><p> </p><p>Because someone had definitely left him there. He may not remember much from before he was five, but he definitely knew he had a guardian, a caretaker, a biological parent, whatever, before they abandoned him.</p><p> </p><p>But he hadn't been frustrated or irritated or upset at the time, mostly confused and curious.</p><p> </p><p>Curiosity that ultimately led to terror, as a spark from one of the clumps of flame that dotted the terrain set his hair alight.</p><p> </p><p>There's a reason why Human-piglins and Piglin-humans are different.</p><p> </p><p>Piglin-humans appear at first glance to be fully Piglin, until you advance closer. Until you see humanoid fingers, clumping wisps of fireproof pink hair on their head, more coordinated movements, human intelligence, human dietary requirements, and with it, a human set of pearly teeth.</p><p> </p><p>Human-piglins, as this child was, are human-looking enough. They would blend in with humans, save: hair forever blazing coral; eyes bloody red; brute, terrifying strength; boar hooves; two ever-growing tusks that would erupt from their gums and furl out their lips.</p><p> </p><p>The kid had, being a kid, screamed and ran around helplessly as his hair was caught on fire. A white-hot, scorching fire burning its way into his head made his legs hasten until they could no longer support him.</p><p> </p><p>He had been dimly aware of footsteps, amongst the agony and panic. Dimly aware of muttering in a strange language. Dimly aware of the fact he was laying on the ground that felt like sandpaper beneath sensitive skin, as pink hair strands fluttered to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>Once the local Piglin-humans had chopped his hair off, the child had collapsed into a disturbingly deep slumber. More confused, this time edging on concerned, chattering followed, before the harshly dragged him into a fortress of black walls.</p><p> </p><p>He had woken with his head shaved. They had done it out of necessity, as Human-piglin's hair were not fireproof as their cousin hybrid's locks. To survive in the Nether, for this type, would mean a shaved scalp.</p><p> </p><p>He had hated it deeply. He hadn't wanted any hair, but short, fluffy pink.</p><p> </p><p>They had also gifted clothes. Their own, of course. He had hated the way they made him look rural, uncivilised, save for a glittery crown.</p><p> </p><p>Alas, he had been forced to keep them.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn't understood a word of what they Piglin-humans were saying. They seemed to be helping him, however hesitant they were to do so.</p><p> </p><p>He had stayed a month to heal the burn wounds, being granted his basic needs along with, after gathering the very basics of their language, communication with his various guards and caretakers.</p><p> </p><p>He had known many of them were fond of him.</p><p> </p><p>He had been allowed to roam the blackstone labyrinth, peeking into Piglin and Piglin-human alike classrooms, ballrooms, medical bays, libraries. Ah, the libraries. No room had intruiged and excited him as the library did.</p><p> </p><p>The classrooms came close; especially the archery and physical education lessons he observed, hidden. But the library had his attention.</p><p> </p><p>He was blessed in the way that Piglin-humans and Piglins alike used to use English when writing and reading, meaning many scriptures were in English. Besides, before even arriving in the Nether, he had been able to read a few words.</p><p> </p><p>With the help of time and pictures in books, he started to teach himself to read. He would pore over the books, memorising not the pictures, but what they meant, even if he didn't understand yet.</p><p> </p><p>Left to his own devices while his scars healed, he would spend upward of twelve hours a day flipping through book and studying them, using context and pictures and the occasional answer from his babysitter for the day to understand what the scribbles meant.</p><p> </p><p>By the end of the month, he had spent probably more than half of it wrapped up in attempting to read, and the majority of the other half observing the lesson, vanishing when caught.</p><p> </p><p>He knew, at the end of the month, when his burn marks had almost fully healed, his days were limited. The two varieties of hybrids hated each other, or that is what context and books had told him. They were going to do something, though his child brain refused to think of what. He just knew he had a deadline.</p><p> </p><p>The day before being kicked out, he had taken a book from the library. Something he wasn't allowed to do, nor something he had ever achieved before. It had been a last-minute decision.</p><p> </p><p>He had been frantically exploring the hidden, frequently unvisited areas of the library, knowing his time was short with access to such literary treasures, and although all of it was in some cacophony of ancient or dead languages, he found a single, vivid lime book translated into English.</p><p> </p><p><em>Sun Tzu, Art of War</em>, it had read. Flipping briefly through the pages, he had found a few pictures.</p><p> </p><p>Of people in fancy clothing and in numerous formations, some being for all-out brawls, some were for wars, some were for one to one combat. People who were strong. People who wore crowns, like he did.</p><p> </p><p>He had quickly stowed the book away in his clothes, and hurried away, escaping without the librarian noticing him smuggling contraband.</p><p> </p><p>They had given him one day's worth of food, a blade for cutting hair and foraging, and deposited him far away, where he could never come back, warning him, that if he did, they would kill him on sight.</p><p> </p><p>He agreed, because although death was a fairly new concept, it appeared a lot in the lessons he had spied on and the books he had read, and, in his life before the Nether. And despite it being something he feared deeply, he was determined to keep it at an arm's length.</p><p> </p><p>The rations lasted three days. He had tried eating only enough to survive per day, but his self-control had failed him, and he had downed the food with a meal every day.</p><p> </p><p>The gold crown as part of the uniform the Piglin-humans had given him warded off the Piglin Scouts he encountered, letting him breeze by them, knowing not to ask them for assistance after one time it went slightly wrong.</p><p> </p><p>By the end of those days, he was weak with hunger and dizzy from exhaustion. The Nether was horrifying, full of noise and lava and fire and ash that hurt his chest. He had been unable to sleep peacefully because of it, plagued with the warnings he had overheard the Piglins tell their youth, or mobs so scary and tall, poisoning your very soul.</p><p> </p><p>That, with his erratic stumbling through the landscaped, tumbling down hills and tripping on roots, trying to find... <em>anything</em>, that would help him survive.</p><p> </p><p>It was when he was delirious from fatigue, he bumped into his first mob that he couldn't ignore. A hoglin.</p><p> </p><p>Snarling, slavering flesh with tusks buried into hollow eye sockets, tearing up chunks of red rock under steely hooves. The stuff out of nightmares. The stuff that <em>made</em> nightmares.</p><p> </p><p>That day, he decided to stab it with his blade.</p><p> </p><p>That day, he learnt what a tusk impaled into his stomach, being shaken as if on a spear, ramming against a wall, and slamming into the ground with a hole in your naval and collapsing into a heap, felt like. What it was like to be halfway to death.</p><p> </p><p>Not even halfway to death. Closer than that.</p><p> </p><p>The only thing saving him from the charging Hoglin, had been recalling the illustrations he had skimmed in <em>The Art of War</em>. Surprise, hit weak point, overwhelm, defeat. He had launched himself up, feeling lightheaded, and smacked his foot against its snout. It had been a weak blow, but disorientating. He had punched it again, in its still bleeding eyes, hearing it roar in pain. He had slit its throat with its own tusk that had fallen out upon stabbing him.</p><p> </p><p>He had kept that tusk as a trophy. He had gratefully eaten the Hoglin's remains. He had realised, as adrenaline had coursed uncontrollably through his veins, in a fit of raw laughter, that he sought violence. No, not just violence. <em>Blood</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The thought instantly was drowned out by fear.</p><p> </p><p>Something innate, deep within him, told him that it would only lead to suffering for other people. He hadn't wanted that. He <em>doesn't</em> want that.</p><p> </p><p>Piglin-humans had a human diet. Human-piglins had Piglin's diet. On the surface, one that required plentiful starch and pastry. But, in the taste buds, a guilty pleasure of blood, much like sugar to humans, providing a high.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He had finished the meal because he had to, taking the rest of it and using it as sparingly as his willpower allowed, testing the boundaries of his dedication. Grimly, he had learnt his lesson from last time. His wound healed slightly.</p><p> </p><p>It was his seventh day navigating the terrain of the Nether, when a strange being stumbled upon him. Winged with raven black feathers. <em>Weird</em>. Looking alike him more than the Piglin-Humans did. <em>But different</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He had squeaked in fear, stumbling back, turning around and racing away. He would later find, this only drew the thing more towards him. Acting oppositely to what the human hybrid had expected, added onto his strange location, in the Nether rather than the overworld, his age, and his rags, apparently accumulated enough compassion for the being to approach him.</p><p> </p><p>He had been scared, at first. Until it had started throwing food at him. Good food, too. Not that raw pork he had been eating for the past few days, or the bread the Piglin-humans often offered. Cooked steak. Fulfilling chicken. The seller though, were still-warm baked potatoes.</p><p> </p><p>He had scampered up, starving frame thin in his dirty, torn clothes, ravenous for more.</p><p> </p><p>The creature had a kind smile, and a sentient gaze. Clear, sharp blue eyes. Blond hair caught in the paradoxical dim yet blinding light of the Nether.</p><p> </p><p>That had been the first time they met.</p><p> </p><p>Phil had introduced himself, explaining he was a Human-avian hybrid and adventurer, thought the first fact was later explained to be a lie.</p><p> </p><p>The kid had been barely able to understand half his words. He had never been exactly fluent in speaking and listening to English, and his time in the Nether had dulled his developing English-speaking skills.</p><p> </p><p>Through slow Piglinspeak, he had tried to communicate.</p><p>"Da'aga jkan."<em>I'm scared.</em> He had felt tears dissolve in his eyes, and he had started trembling. <em>The big man is scary</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Phil had advanced further, studying him curiously.</p><p><br/>"Tekkenoh!" He had screamed, kicking Phil's hand and crawling back, skin ripping against the ground.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn't known what that meant at the time, just that he had seen it in the ancient texts in the library. He didn't even know what it meant exactly or how to pronounce it correctly, but that was what the people in fancy dress had yelled before and after fights, so he would say it.</p><p> </p><p>He had tried it out of terror and an attempt at intimidation. He had failed in both regards.</p><p> </p><p>The hybrid had cocked his head, stopping his advance.</p><p> </p><p>"Tekkno?" Phil had mimicked. He had nodded.</p><p>"Tekkno, Tekkno." He had agreed quickly, anything to stop him continuing forward.</p><p> </p><p>Phil had bribed him with more food, eventually being allowed to sit beside the child. He stayed for three hours until the kid fought to keep his eyes open. The days had taken their toll on his body. So had starvation, and now that he was full with warm food, adrenaline wore off.</p><p>"Do you have a family? A mum?" Phil had asked, but the four-year-old shook their head. He was unsure what family meant, other than in the stories he read, where they were all traitors or dead. And mum wasn't a word he knew, though it sounded akin to <em>mom</em>, a word he did know.</p><p> </p><p>Time passed.</p><p> </p><p>Exhaustion had wafted over him, growing increasingly heavy.</p><p> </p><p>"You tired?" Phil had asked, and the Human-Piglin hadn't know what that meant, his spoken English was rusty.</p><p> </p><p>"You're okay." Smiling, Phil had draped a cloak over the small body, nodding, and turned away, holding a weapon.</p><p> </p><p>The kid hadn't known what that meant either, but the message was clear when he saw Phil shoot a Hoglin before it even looked at them and start cooking food that he made no effort to hide or stop Techno from reaching out and taking. This had also forced the child closer to him. <em>I'm okay, I think. He would have killed me by now... right?</em></p><p> </p><p>He hadn't eaten the pork, full of the earlier meal, but placed it nearby, before sitting up and looking dead at Phil as he worked, humming a tune.</p><p> </p><p>Before long, he realised he couldn't stay awake. Fear fought with him; afraid Phil would hurt him. He didn't trust the Avian hybrid at all, not after his previous treatment with the Piglins.</p><p> </p><p>Phil had turned to him, causing him to flinch. Phil's gaze had softened, rounding.</p><p><br/>"How can I help?"</p><p> </p><p>Help. The Human-piglin recognised that English word from the scrolls. It was phonetic. He had ignored Phil, gazing at the metal in his hands. Help?</p><p> </p><p>"Do you want it?"</p><p> </p><p>When the kid didn't respond, Phil nudged the sheathed knife towards him. Taking it, he had spoken English for the first time since arriving here, maybe ever.</p><p><br/>"Blade."</p><p> </p><p>Phil had nodded.</p><p> </p><p>"Blade." He parroted with mock graveness.</p><p> </p><p>Flicking through The Art of War, the smaller had shown a page he had torn out of another book and placed inside. A page of illustrated weapons.</p><p> </p><p>A tiny finger had pointed to the knife drawing.</p><p> </p><p>"Blade."</p><p> </p><p>"Great! Can you tell me what all the others are?" Phil had asked the four-year-old.</p><p> </p><p>He did.</p><p> </p><p>By the time he had finished listing them all, the kid had fallen silent, eyes closed for a moment. The kid had muttered "Tekkno" as he readjusted his crown. He looked like the fancy people who declared that "Tekkenoh" sound, and he loved it. A moment of shut eyes stretched longer, and longer, until he flopped back, and was swung into a deep sleep.</p><p> </p><p>He completely missed Phil healing his wound and didn't even realise it was gone the next day.</p><p> </p><p>He completely missed Phil softly asking, "Is that your name?". He completely missed Phil assuming it was, indeed, what he was called. He would be unsure of why Phil suddenly started calling him that. He didn't realise that was the word Phil was trying to spell as he wrote "Techno" on birthday cakes and the like. He completely missed, through the strangled English enunciation and misspelling, that Phil was trying to call him Tekkenoh. He completely forgot, where it was from or that he had even had a name before it, if he ever did. He completely missed it, because he was asleep.</p><p> </p><p>Phil had picked the sleeping boy up, along with his book, knife, and Phil's own possessions. And gotten them the fuck out of the hellhole known as the Nether.</p><p> </p><p>They had started a new life, one where Techno barely remembered his time in the Nether, and only briefly recalled vague, vague memories or feelings of nostalgia of things that happened before.</p><p> </p><p>They had had returned to Phil's biological son, who was unnamed and recently born. Techno named him Wilbur, meaning wild boar in old English. A nod to his older brother.</p><p> </p><p>Phil had long hair, and when he asked Techno if he wanted a haircut to keep it that short and fluffy, he had always loved, Techno declined. He wanted it to be long, like Phil's. Maybe even longer.</p><p> </p><p>And a few years later, when Techno was ten and Wilbur was almost seven, they had been on a walk, lost from Phil, and found a toddler playing and eating mud. Wilbur had originally teased the kid, but it soon grew into a gentle, light-hearted play. Even Techno 'sparred' with the kid, joking they would train him young.</p><p> </p><p>Despite both Techno and Phil's reservations, Wilbur insisted on keeping the kid. A while later, Phil informed them they were going to have another sibling. The kid was two and had somehow wriggled away from the nearby orphanage. He was unnamed and unclaimed.</p><p> </p><p>Techno had hated visiting the orphanage, being teased for his Piglin looks by all the orphans and mocked by the staff. He wanted to 'set it alight', which was a concept quickly shut down by Phil. But, by the end, they had a new baby brother.</p><p> </p><p>Blond, blue eyed, and curious, Wilbur had named him Thomas, a "Good name. Looks like a Tom, or a Tommy, doesn't he Techno?" which Techno had responded with "I mean, I guess. It just looks like a lump of pinkish skin and screams." and they had laughed about it.</p><p> </p><p>Techno had actually quite liked the name. It meant 'twin' in Aramaic, or so he read, and although they weren't twins, the familial reference was still there. Phil agreed with this as he fancied Tommy looked quite similar to him. A claim refuted by both of his other children.</p><p> </p><p>The kid later chose to go by Tommy, and kept his last name, the only thing his biological parents had left him, 'Innit'.</p><p> </p><p>And Techno, later, by Technoblade, or 'The Blade' as a nod to the knife he had kept ever since he was four.</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur kept his name, but often cited his surname as Soot, because having his surname 'Minecraft' and therefore getting people constantly asking about the "last of his kind!" and "legendary" father he had, what with his dad being the last Human-avian hybrid, currently two hundred and fifty years old, and creator of this planet, was exhausting.</p><p> </p><p>They were children of a hybrid between a god and a human.</p><p> </p><p>What else did they think?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Nether Sucks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A trip to the Nether ends in blood.</p><p>//blood n attack n stuff</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Now, Technoblade slammed his fists into the wood, the trunk shaking violently as chips of aqua bark peppered the floor. The ground sagged slightly beneath him, navy moss squelching under leather boots. Finally, the chunks of warped planks came loose, and upon tearing them away, he crafted a set of inflammable arrows and a crossbow.</p><p> </p><p>"Are we there yet?" Tommy nagged.</p><p><br/>"No, shut up."</p><p> </p><p>Readjusting his crown in case of Piglins, he both groaned at the weight of the gold digging into his scalp and relished in the strength and grace that he had worked so valiantly for.</p><p> </p><p>As they moved, Tommy grew even more impatient.</p><p> </p><p>"Techno," He hissed as Techno bridged across a bubbling void of peat. Techno leapt the smallish gap to the other side of the ravine, turning around.</p><p> </p><p>"Yep?" Techno swallowed. His throat was bone dry and his body was starved of resources. Salt trails poured down his neck from where sweat had dried.</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur hovered behind the nervous teen, Phil right behind him.</p><p> </p><p>"H-how much longer will we be out here- <em>fuck</em>- help!" He screamed as he teetered, and Techno shot back across the bridge body slamming into the child and throwing him back onto the platform.</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur dragged them across the floor as the lips of the ravine crumbled, netherrack cramming into Techno's mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Rough dirt ripped at his tongue and gums as he clung to Tommy, gritting his teeth. Screwing his eyelids shut, he spluttered as Wilbur dragged him out the crumbling dirt.</p><p> </p><p>Choking on the ashy air, he guzzled in the oxygen. As his panting steadied, his eyelids fluttered open and he saw his older brother and father gazing anxiously at him.</p><p> </p><p>Tightening his arms, he realised he was still wrapped protectively around Tommy. Sitting up, a cough erupted from his lips.</p><p> </p><p>"I... 'm oka-y." His whole body was racked with wheezes, his lungs practically clawing at his throat.</p><p> </p><p>He whipped around to Tommy, brushing scraps of dust across from his clothes as the blond stirred, spluttering before propping himself up. Keeping his head stable, he prodded at Tommy's face, checking for any netherrack clogging his airways.</p><p> </p><p>"Y...ou okaygh?" His throat was strained still. Wilbur rushed to Tommy's side, and Techno felt a steady hand on his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>"You okay, Techno?" Phil's concerned voice came from above his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Blade pulled away, stifling a cough.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, whatever." He muttered, shaking him off.</p><p> </p><p>He pulled himself to his feet, pushing away the slight dizziness.</p><p><br/>"Oi! Techno!" He stopped walking.</p><p><br/>"Eh?" He rasped, hearing faint murmuring where Wilbur was tending to Tommy.</p><p> </p><p>Phil turned him around firmly, blue eyes meeting crimson.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't brush it off. That was scary. It's okay to be afrai-"</p><p> </p><p>Techno cut him off by dragging his hand away.</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry, but we gotta keep moving." He forced his voice to be smooth.</p><p> </p><p>Waiting for Phil's insistence, he began walking. Thankfully, he just stayed back to help Tommy and Wilbur keep up.</p><p> </p><p>He jumped over a fallen trunk, and tasted the air, letting himself plunge into memories.</p><p> </p><p>Unlike humans, he had almost perfect memory, even more so than his Piglin ancestors did. So, he remembered this place. Remembered the road he took.</p><p> </p><p>He remembered they were taking the road to fortress.</p><p> </p><p>And to do so, they would have to pass the Bastian.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>This is going to be an interesting visit.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>They continued to cross the terrain. Techno was clearly more at home in the climate, his naturally warmer temperature allowing to tolerate the sweltering heat, and his hoofed feet allowed him to shoot across the terrain.</p><p> </p><p>Rivalling him was Tommy, who had been creepily fast and dexterous since what the orphanage described as "since he came down from the heavens". <em>More like rose up from hell.</em> Techno sniffed amusedly at his silent joke. He had seemingly recovered from their early tumble.</p><p> </p><p>Lagging behind was Phil and Wilbur, Phil's wings were clearly restless, twitching with every slight breeze, but otherwise, Wilbur would be left behind.</p><p> </p><p>They were all bone tired by the time a dark structure loomed ominously through the vermillion haze.</p><p> </p><p>Hungry, sweaty, bickering slightly, they finally fell silent at the sight of it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>We're here.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And by the look of the dozens of Piglins pointing an army of crossbows at the four, they weren't welcoming any visitors...</p><p> </p><p>(Tommy is half avian half human, though they don't know it yet. His wings will sprout out bloodily and painfully, in the meantime, he falls slowly and is slightly quicker.)</p><p> </p><p>Next chap</p><p> </p><p>Before he even opened his mouth, an arsenal of arrows is launched at him, turning the red clouds swirling above into wisps of mist.</p><p> </p><p>Instantaneously, three things happen at once and Techno only perceived it until a moment after it has happened.</p><p> </p><p>Firstly, Tommy flinched back and behind him so quickly that he was just a blur, seemingly moving the second the Piglins shot at them.</p><p> </p><p>The second thing that he realised had happened at the same time, was Phil making a jolting movement in his peripherals.</p><p> </p><p>The final thing was that Techno was way too slow in his reaction times, because suddenly he had whiplash and was on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>His neck felt like it had been yanked back, adrenaline was silver-cold panic in his belly, and an arrow was buried in the ground between his legs.</p><p> </p><p>He registered a blood-curdling scream and his gaze shot up to see Wilbur's eyes amber moons, his skin porcelain white and an arrow embedded into his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy was whimpering, crushed under Techno.</p><p> </p><p>Head spinning, Techno turned to see what had saved them.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes barely realised it at first, hastily focusing on night black feather, intertwining with each other to make wings, wings that met with- <em>Phil</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Phil's wings had stopped the shower of arrows from plunging into them.</p><p> </p><p>A brief, ridiculous thought entered his mind. <em>Where did the arrows go?</em></p><p> </p><p>It was answered as a couple were dislodged from Phil's back, the man grimacing as blood splattered arrows cracked upon hitting the floor.</p><p> </p><p>Bile rose in his throat at Phil's blanched skin tone and weirdly flushed cheeks. They were a disturbingly burnt salmon pink. More blood pattered on the floor, his wounds starting to well.</p><p> </p><p>Grabbing Techno and Wilbur, Techno hid behind Phil's wings, one arm propping Wilbur up, the other supporting Phil.</p><p> </p><p>The Piglin leader snarled and the sound of crossbows being drawn churned like his stomach.</p><p> </p><p>"Go," Phil hissed, panting slightly. Techno felt his wings trembling.</p><p><br/>"I'll hold them off. Tell Tommy to run, and you take Wilbur. Meet at our last camp."</p><p><br/>"Phi- Dad... I-" He cut himself off. This was no time for an emotional goodbye.</p><p> </p><p>More arrows whizzed over his head, and Techno felt a heartstring snap when Phil couldn't stop a whimper escaping his lips.</p><p> </p><p>He whipped around to Tommy.</p><p> </p><p>"Run back to our camp in the warped forest." He demanded, voice shaky. He felt sick.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy's eyes widened. The blond was speechless.</p><p> </p><p>Rage flashed up through fear and nausea.</p><p><br/>"I said fucking<em> go</em>!" He roared. Thankfully, the teen turned and hared into the forest. His feet barely skimmed the earth as he shot away.</p><p> </p><p>Until another barrage of arrows flew down on him.</p><p> </p><p>Distracted from Phil, the Piglins focused Tommy. Every muscle screamed at him to run in there and tank all the arrows.</p><p> </p><p>But Wilbur needed him.</p><p> </p><p>"TOMMY!" He screeched, voice raw as thoughts of his brother's death filled his mind.</p><p> </p><p>The teen barely made it to the roots of the woodland before he vanished in a sea of arrows.</p><p> </p><p>Techno felt his heart stop.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy's form kept going, but he was hunched, and Techno couldn't see anything but his white t-shirt. <em>White</em>. Good to note no arrows where in his back.</p><p> </p><p>Once the teen was shrouded in shadow, he turned back to Phil and Wilbur. When he had pulled away to warn Tommy, Wilbur had crumpled slightly, blood starting to soak his shirt.</p><p> </p><p>They didn't speak. They didn't need to. And Phil couldn't if he tried.</p><p> </p><p>Phil's slight nod was all he needed.</p><p> </p><p>He slung Wilbur under his arm and use his other to cradle his shoulder and head.</p><p> </p><p>He started sprinting.</p><p> </p><p>He was hyperaware of a unearthly screech piercing his ears as he ran. Aware of Phil's screech and the huge beat of wings that sounded like the heartbeat of the Nether.</p><p> </p><p>Aware of the Piglins pausing their reload as Phil sent dust clouds spinning.</p><p> </p><p>Another twang as arrows cast shadows that he could see as they sailed towards him.</p><p> </p><p>Only one met their target, dulled to a barely registered thump in his lower heel by adrenaline.</p><p> </p><p>Another powerful flap of wings and a wave of pure force that diverted the arrows and a boost that propelled him and Wilbur forward.</p><p> </p><p>The warped forest was hard to navigate, and his vision spun faster than his body turned. Wilbur had gone limp in his arms. Bile bit at his throat.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly his legs were flung back, and he barely shot his hand up in time to catch himself on a tree. His palm slammed into the bark so hard it went numb. His other was still cradling his brother, attempting to keep him as steady as possible.</p><p> </p><p>Tearing his ankle free from a ring of thorns, barely feeling the ripping of skin past the adrenaline.</p><p> </p><p>His blood coursed in his veins untamed, so fast and pushing against the walls of his capillaries so hard he thought they might burst.</p><p> </p><p>He felt weak and lightheaded. Like he would pass out as any momen- he felt his stomach leap into his throat as bile pushed its way out his mouth, a horrible retching twisting his naval as he vomited into a thorn bush.</p><p> </p><p>His hand was trembling as he attempted to prop himself up. Sick dripped from his lips and he brushed it was, gagging at the taste.</p><p> </p><p>His oesophagus felt raw and burnt.</p><p> </p><p>He was sure he popped a blood vessel his heart was thrumming so erratically.</p><p> </p><p>Staggering upright, he readjusted Wilbur in his arms and continued running.</p><p> </p><p>He felt dizzy.</p><p> </p><p>He realised he was having trouble walking as he barely managed to limp into the heart of the camp.</p><p> </p><p>Depositing Wilbur, a quick glance at Tommy told him his youngest brother was fine, a few red marks where bruises would show, but other than that, he was just in shock.</p><p> </p><p>"Grab the berries Phil was saving as a dessert. They're high in sugar, they'll help with the shock. Wrap up warm, take slow exhales."</p><p> </p><p>He was half expecting his words to be as slurred as his mind felt, but they surprisingly came out semi-coherent.</p><p> </p><p>Trembling, the kid nodded, crawling over to their stock of food.</p><p> </p><p>Now to tend to Wilbur.</p><p> </p><p>The middle brother had an arrow driven into his shoulder, not his chest. It reassuringly shallow, but that did not ease the tight knot within him as his brother's head lolled back.</p><p> </p><p>Gritting his teeth, Techno tried to calm down and remember what to do.</p><p> </p><p><em>Don't remove something lodged in flesh unless there is someone experienced with medicine is nearby. </em>The voices warned. Some did. Others screamed.</p><p> </p><p>But no one was around for... this entire dimension. <em>And Phil might not be coming back</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He felt ill.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Help him.</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>Do it!</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>Wait...</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>The voices were yelling over each other, and a haze grew over his vision.</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>What are you waiting for?</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>Stop!</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>NOT POG!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>AAAHHHHHH<em> FUCKING DO IT ALREA-</em></strong>
</p><p> </p><p>He ripped the arrow out, instantly starting to shake violently as splinters of wood were left in a gaping hole of crimson.</p><p> </p><p>"The... the fuck are you doing, Techno, you don't know what you're fucking doing!"</p><p> </p><p>Tommy shrieked from where he was covered in berry traces and white as a sheet.</p><p><br/>"I'm <em>trying</em>." His growl died in his throat though as blood started to well at the wound. He felt a second from passing out.</p><p> </p><p>He whipped around, grabbing Phil's medkit.</p><p> </p><p>Bandages. Potions. An elastic band. A series of metal tools.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Perfect.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He forced his hands steady as he picked up a flat edged metal tool. He heard Tommy gag.</p><p> </p><p>"Look away." His voice was breaking, and he knew it. Thankfully, the child turned away, curling into a ball.</p><p> </p><p>He bound the elastic band around Wilbur's shoulder to limit blood flow. And with that, he started to scrape the splinters away. Copious amounts of blood, tissue, oh dear <em>Minecraft</em>, that's a lot.</p><p> </p><p>It made him feel faintly sicker than he had been before.</p><p> </p><p>He heard Tommy's sniffles as he grabbed the potions, satisfied enough with his removal of splinters.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Healing.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Pouring the vermillion liquid into the wound, Wilbur groaned slightly, stirring from his unconsciousness.</p><p> </p><p>It repulsed the remaining flecks of wood, the potion expelling them as it healed over. It left a patch of slightly bleeding scar tissue, but it still relieved Techno's heart.</p><p> </p><p>He bound his wound with bandages.</p><p> </p><p>Giving a shuddering sigh of relief, he gently pulled his brother under a blanket and disinfected the area, taking the elastic off his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>He tried to tense up. Tried to stand back up to go after Phil. But his body was too frail.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm too weak..." he rasped.</p><p> </p><p>Dimly, he could hear Tommy say, "No you're not Techno, you just need rest." before he crumbled to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>He felt the vertigo swamp him like water.</p><p> </p><p>A smaller boy dragged his limp body onto something soft, and water trickled down his throat.</p><p> </p><p>Amongst the static noise, a few words were spoken.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't worry Blade, rest up. I'm going to go check on Phil."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>NO! TOMMY WILL GET HIMSELF KILLED!<br/><br/></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Tommy would be gone! Crabrave!</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>Let the child go, probably a liability anyway...</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>It's for the best.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Techno crushed the noises furiously.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Don't say that about my brother, dickwads.</em>
</p><p><br/>"Tommy, no. Stay here," he rasped, barely conscious.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That won't make him stay, he's gonna die if he goes.</em>
</p><p><br/>"We need you to protect us more than Phil does."</p><p> </p><p>He didn't even have time to gage whether Tommy left or not.</p><p> </p><p>Not before he was drowned in sleep, riddled with dull pain and sharp fear.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fuck...</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments and kudos feed me, leave them</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. And he wakes up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Techno wakes up with injuries sadge</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He woke up with a heat source trembling into his flank. He was aware of a soft blanket flopped over him. Before he opened his eyes, he heard sniffling. <em>The person lying against me is crying.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Who is that?<br/>
<br/>
</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>TURN OVER</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>Did Tommy go after Phil?</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The voices were as irritating as ever.</p><p> </p><p>He rolled over, still emerging from sleep. He felt the person move and roll out from the blanket as he opened his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy was darting away from him, rushing over to the fallen wooden log to pretend like he was never there. The boy was currently whistling, looking very remorseful.</p><p> </p><p>"Tommy," he murmured softly, voice still dry from sleep and tasting foul from vomiting yesterday... a few hours ago... whenever, and he took a swig of water to soothe it.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy glanced up innocently.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, Blade?"</p><p>Techno drew the bottle from his lips.</p><p> </p><p>"You know it's okay to hug me, right?" He spoke quietly, trying to be gentle. Tommy flustered.</p><p><br/>
"Uh, yeah! I knew that... um, why-why do you ask, dickhead?" He stammered angrily.</p><p> </p><p>Techno sighed, choosing not to start a debate.</p><p> </p><p>"Just know that, okay? If you're cold, or tired, or just need someone next to you, it's okay to sleep near me. Just don't hog the duvet."</p><p> </p><p>Tommy pursed his lips into a thin line and ducked his head sheepishly. After a moment of silence, he replied.</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks, Techno." The kid spoke at an almost mumble.</p><p> </p><p>Just like Techno, Tommy had extremely good long-term memory, but awful short-term. Apparently, they hadn't hugged him back in the orphanage. <em>Ever?</em> A fact which still angered Techno.</p><p> </p><p>He sat up to hug his youngest brother, thinking he both needed and deserved one, when a fiery hot pain lanced through his leg.</p><p> </p><p>Gasping, he hissed a groan of pain. He bit back a swear, a habit from when Phil used to not let him swear around Tommy.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Speaking of Phil...</em>
</p><p><br/>
"Techno? Techno what's wrong?" Tommy rushed to his side.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Phil?</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>Must save Phil.</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>What's wrong with Techno?</strong><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <strong>Awww, Technobro</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>"T-Techno?" Tommy insisted, checking Techno's pulse fearfully.</p><p> </p><p>He pushed Tommy away firmly.</p><p> </p><p>"I... am fine, it's my heel. Give me... the medkit." He drawled, trying to forget about the pain hammering into his foot.</p><p> </p><p>The boy passed him the kit, eyes round with concern.</p><p> </p><p>An arrow had left a wound in his heel where he was shot... <em>My Achilles Heel...</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Achilles? Huh? Wait what does that symbolise?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He shoved away the voices and any reference to Greek mythology. Because that's all it was. Mythology.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I don't have a weakness like he did. My heel is fine.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He felt a rush of confidence as he dressed his wound. He can bleed, of course. But he never let it slow him. He never let himself cry over it. His mortality was something he could dismiss easily.</p><p> </p><p>It might have been harder to ignore if he wasn't so feared every being in the overworld ran at the sight of him in battle armour. Might have been harder to ignore if Phil wasn't so vigilante. Or Wilbur so tactical. Or Tommy so protective. But they were. He was. So, it was easy.</p><p> </p><p>To ignore it.</p><p> </p><p>Techno pushed himself up.</p><p> </p><p>"It's time to sa- <em>get</em> Phil."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I AM SO SORRY that I haven’t updated this in so long-</p><p>I swear this isn’t dead, I’ll be adding more LOL</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Bastion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Techno goes to fetch Phil...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Cw / / blood, fighting, near passing out, losing control</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He moved swiftly through the treachery of the nether, ignoring how rocky and turbulent certain areas were. Tommy had been tasked to look after Wilbur until Technoblade returned, hopefully, with Phil in tow.</p><p> </p><p>He hardly felt the burn of fire against his cheeks. Hardly felt the pant of hunger and twinge of pain in his heel as he ran.</p><p> </p><p>He just needed to save Phil.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>PHIL</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>GET PHIL</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>DEADZA</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>HE’S GONE</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The voices made him see red. The voices made him angry. He was already impulsive, but <strike>fear</strike> anger, he corrected, made him that tenfold.</p><p> </p><p>All he knew was fire, and horror, and a deep, unshakable sense of dread filling his stomach like poison had filled his journey. He barely remembered any of it aside from that.</p><p> </p><p>Yet, he arrived to the Bastion, it’s towers shrouded in a similar red hue as his vision.</p><p> </p><p>He paused. Danger could lie within the blackstone walls, even more than he could imagine. This could be his final moments without staring death in the eye. <em>It may have been the last time he spoke to Tommy or Wilbur. </em>He understood that. He instantly accepted it. Phil was worth risk.</p><p> </p><p>It was simple statistics. <em>And emotionally driven.</em> A voice, not one of <b>The Voices</b>, but one of his own, reminded him. For once, he accepted it. The situation was too dire to squabble with himself over petty pride.</p><p> </p><p>He stepped into the Bastion.</p><p> </p><p>It felt strangely familiar as he swept through it’s halls. He felt like he knew where every turn led, without have ever been there. He felt like it was simple navigation. <b>The Voices</b> claimed it was because he <b>was the Human GPS</b>, they cried out that he was <b>the Blood God, of course he knew the way to the prisoner cell</b>.</p><p> </p><p>He was unconvinced. But he also tried not to read into how he knew the route. Too much thinking made his head throb, and as a chronic over thinker, that was slightly bothersome at best.</p><p> </p><p>His feet made worryingly loud clunks on the polished floors as he swept through the Bastion, ducking and swerving at every faint noise indicating a guard.</p><p> </p><p>Speaking of which, he was surprised at the lack of them.</p><p> </p><p>As he turned into the prison quarters, he realised why.</p><p> </p><p>Dozens of piggish humanoids were clustered around iron bars, red eyes glinting in dim orange light and foam dripping off tusks. They exchanged mutters. They didn’t notice him as he slipped into the shadows at the back.</p><p> </p><p>”Neok garr tuff?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Is this prisoner a threat?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>”Snorr graa.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Maybe. It’s human.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Past the bars, the cell walls were stained in dried blood. Like it was strokes of horrid russet paint. Black skulls were stapled to the walls, empty sockets fixed on the bundle of green and black in the centre. Like paintings of the dead, crudely sculpted from violence, embedded into walls to forever watch the imprisoned.</p><p> </p><p>Phil wasn’t moving.</p><p> </p><p><em>Is he dead? </em>The thought fell into his stomach sickeningly, barely relaxing when he saw Phil shift slightly, wings twitching and making the Piglins and hybrids pause their bickering to growl at him.</p><p> </p><p>One of the hybrids threw stew into the cell, a large portion of the broth splashing onto the floor.</p><p> </p><p>Pale hands poked out from beneath the wings, closing around the rough wooden bowl, and dragging it close with a rough grating noise. Hurried slurping ensued from beneath Phil’s wings.</p><p> </p><p><em>At least he’s energised now.</em> Hesitant relief trickled through him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>POG</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>HE’S ALIVE OMG</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>SAVE HIM TECHNO</b>
</p><p> </p><p>He slid further forward, daring to join the back rows of the hybrids.</p><p>“Garr! Snorf on fum?”</p><p>
  <em>Prisoner, who are you?</em>
</p><p>Phil pulled himself out from beneath his wings, making Techno shudder at the stray, bloodied feathers tumbling from his back and onto the floor, wincing at the way Phil’s face was blank white and smeared with blood and ash.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>They’re gonna pay for doing that.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BLOOD?</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>WHAT THE FUCK DID THEY DO TO PHIL</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>UM</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>OH NO</strong>
</p><p>He felt the familiar roar in his ears and took a sobering breath. Getting mad won’t help Phil.</p><p> </p><p>Phil’s sharp features were touched with red. He looked exhausted. Every second that Techno saw his black wings glint in the lamplight with blood, he felt sicker. The blond man pulled his head up, lolling slightly.</p><p> </p><p>”I... my name is Philza Minecraft, let me go.”</p><p> </p><p>The Piglin’s eyes flashed brightly in the salmon light, and they exchanged glances. They seemed to understand “Minecraft”.</p><p> </p><p>”I am a demigod, I can beat the shit outta you, don’t even try it, okay?” Phil continued, his hands visibly shaking beneath him even from a distance.</p><p><br/>Technoblade knew it was out of fatigue and adrenaline, not fear. Phil would never let fear show. <em>Right?</em></p><p> </p><p>A tiny seed of anxiety wormed in his stomach. <em>If it is fear, he’s in serious trouble. </em>He put a hand on the hilt of his dagger, only to find it wasn’t there.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh no.</em>
</p><p><br/>The Piglins exchanged mutters, but their gaze was blank. Techno felt a reassuring realisation dawn on him; they didn’t understand Phil. <em>They don’t speak English.</em></p><p>A sense of relief felt sent from the Overworld. At least now, Phil wouldn’t give anything away.</p><p> </p><p>That sense of relief immediately disappeared when the Piglins, all at once, drew their swords, a cacophony of grating sounds stabbing his ears. Then they turned on Phil. Opened his cage. <em>No, no, no...</em> A brute stepped forward. <em>No, no... </em>Techno frantically looked for anything to save Phil around the room. All he found was Piglins, lamps, and blackstone.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>They’re gonna kill Phil. Maybe I can use a lamp, knock them out. Maybe I can get them to focus on me instea-</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The Piglin Brute swung it’s axe like an execution, because it is one, and Techno’s scream died in his throat before it even started as the glittering black axe <em>caught the light, abou-</em> Phil gave a grand sweep of his bloodied wings, eyes suddenly piercing. The ground trembled underfoot.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>WHAT</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I’M SCARED</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>WHAT’S HAPPENING</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Techno’s heart jumped into his throat and he staggered back, the world bucking beneath him until he felt like a helpless leaf in a storm. He made eye contact with Phil’s wide aqua eyes before he slammed into the ground, back aching, hands struggling to find the floor. The world was shaking, trembling, the lamps were about to fall, violently swinging, dozens of bodies being thrown against each other, the breath knocked from him and the world whirling as somebody slammed into him, and then his forehead hit something with a thud.</p><p> </p><p>White lanced through his skull, almost instantly disappearing, replaced with a dull throb between his eyes. <em>Ouch. </em></p><p>He tried to get up. His lungs screamed and he flopped back down. Winded. He was somewhat aware of the shuffles of the Piglins getting back on their feet. The floor was startlingly calm under his fingers that had carved dents in the brick.</p><p> </p><p>Head spinning, he pulled himself up on a lamp chain and slightly swaying legs, feeling dimly sick. <em>Phil.</em> Phil was still sitting on the floor. His face had blanched. He was sat in the same place, as if the earthquake hadn’t affected him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Did he...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>His thought was cut off by a terrified squeal, and his eyes were yanked to a baby Zombie-Piglin staring at him with wide golden eyes. <em>Uh. Child. Please don’-</em></p><p> </p><p>It opened it’s mouth and gave the loudest, squeakiest emergency cry Techno had ever heard. He slapped his hand over it’s mouth. Instantly he staggered back, giving his own squeal of pain.</p><p> </p><p><em>The fucker</em> bit <em>me!</em></p><p> </p><p>And then he realised the entire Piglin army was staring at him. He reached for his sword, for the second time realising it his sheath was empty.</p><p> </p><p>Dozens of aureate eyes stared at him. A single pair of blue joined them. Phil looked worse than before. His face was impossibly paler, and he was laying on the ground, pupils glassy.</p><p> </p><p>Techno knew what death looked like. He didn’t want to see Phil die. Adrenaline pounded through his veins and his mouth went dry, the world spinning around him slightly.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>UH</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>YOU’RE GONNA BE FORCED TO KILL THEM</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>PHIL?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t realise he was chewing on his bottom lips until blood flooded his mouth. <em>Oh no. Not now.</em></p><p> </p><p><b>The Voices</b> tasted blood. His Human-Piglin instinct kicked in.</p><p> </p><p>The blood in his body roared through his skull. His fingers, clasped around a lamp chain, crushed the metal. It turned to dust. He felt his legs shake. Not with exhaustion this time.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>BLOOD</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly he was on the other side of the room. He didn’t remember walking there, but he did remember snatching an axe like or was a pencil and snapping it in half.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD</b>
</p><p>He realised there were crossbows pointed at his face. He knew he <em>should</em> feel scared. But he just... didn’t. He grabbed a bow. He spun it in the air like Phil taught him, for when you want to intimate your opponents.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD</b>
</p><p>
  <b>BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD</b>
</p><p>Then he was struggling to breathe. He was spinning in the universe and could barely see through the red haze. He began to speak.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <b>BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD</b>
</p><p>
  <b>BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD<br/></b>
</p><p>
  <b>BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD</b>
</p><p>He said the first word that came to mind. One that he had forgotten earlier. One he didn’t even know was still in his memory.</p><p> </p><p>”<em>Tekennoh!</em>” He heard someone scream the word and realised it was him.</p><p> </p><p>And then an axe was lifted to his throat.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I promised I’d update, and I wanted to make it a lengthy chapter! So I did.</p><p>Comments are pretty cool :]</p><p>Thank you those who have left them &lt;3</p><p>Also I haven’t proofread, pls leave where I have made a mistake if you notice!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Kneeling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They knelt.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The piglin screamed behind him, a mix of guttural snarls and snorts, a hoof holding the axe like a feather, crushing muscles trapping his arms to his flank. The weapon was grazing the skin above a beating artery, cold versus the heated panic coursing through his body. He was suddenly, dizzyingly aware that there was a very thin separation between the axe resting on his throat and the metal slicing through him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Only skin and breath between life and death...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The felt blurry, like a dream he would wake up from. Because he couldn't die, right? Well, he knew he <em>could</em>, but-</p><p> </p><p>The axe pressed in and drew blood. His heart plummeted into his feet.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>AAAAAAAAA</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>UM?</strong>
</p><p>"KILL THE HYBRID!"</p><p>"DESTROY THE INTRUDER!"</p><p> </p><p>The voices  were so loud, both in and aloud, so loud it echoed through his chest and vibrated through his toes, so loud he couldn't <em>think</em>. His eyes scrunched slightly.</p><p> </p><p>His heart thrummed rapidly, stuttering and starting occasionally like prey tripping over its own feet. His teeth worried away at his chapped, torn lips. Blood filled his mouth and he swallowed harshly, iron burning his throat.</p><p> </p><p>There was creepily heavy breathing behind him.</p><p> </p><p>He purposefully gazed at the fruits of his laboursome violence, battered bodies and soldiers. <em>This is the only way.</em></p><p> </p><p>He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline and strength, his throat rising against the blade, the voices chanting oblivion into his ears.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>He swung his arms up, and in one fluid motion, ripped the axe away from him in newfound strength and agility, slicing the Piglin's head raggedly off. It fell with a thump, but the most important aspect was a golden helmet clanging against blackstone as it tumbled.</p><p>The Piglins looked horried. Their eyes stretched wide, gasps elicited from the horde. Worried snarls exchanged.</p><p> </p><p>But one by one, they knelt. Some were hesitant, eyeing him suspiciously as they dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. Others rushed to the floor with trembling lips, clearly scared of him. Others flopped, too exhausted from the fighting to continue to stand. Some looked at him with admiration in their crimson eyes, kneeling respectfully.</p><p> </p><p>They all dipped.</p><p>He was frozen, mind reeling.</p><p> </p><p>"Why are you doin' that?"</p><p> </p><p>He glanced over at Phil for answers, but the blond looked like he had passed out.</p><p> </p><p>He gazed back at the crowd.</p><p> </p><p>He felt like a god.</p><p>
  <strong>YES</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>OBLITERATED</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>KING TECHNO</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>POG</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he was.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Subscribing to a fic (or to me) gives you email notifications everytime i post this (or if you've subscribed to e as a creator, every time I post ANYTHING). So yeah!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Leave kudos and comments, PLEASE. thank you :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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